Mischievous Thrills
by limemonkey
Summary: The story about how a completely normal and somewhat bland girl falls in love with her complete opposite- she, however, is unaware of what he is really capable of. Will this fairytale have a happy ending? self insert/Loki


Yet another rainy day in New York City. Multicolored umbrellas littered the air, protecting their holders from the rain. A small, petite woman with [h/c] tresses sighed as she looked out of her car window, waiting for her beloved daughter to arrive.

Her small hand ran down the window, craving to feel the wetness of the outside air. [Name] really loved the rain. Even when her younger years came to a close, she'd still spend hours playing in the rain- except, she didn't have to have her mother tell her to take her muddy boots off once she came into the house. She was smarter than that, now.

[Name] heaved a sigh, and returned to looking out for her daughter. She could finally spot her walking out of the large building, and running towards the car with a book over her head, poorly protecting her from the rain. She opened the car door, and hopped in, shaking off her book. She closed the door.

"So, Syd, how was school today?" questioned [Name], pulling out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

"It was good," she replied.

[Name] inwardly sighed. She hated seeing her daughter so… antisocial, for lack of a better word. She was only seven! Sydney would barely even talk to her own mother, never mind anyone else.

"Something bothering you?" [Name] turned the wheel, pulling into another highway. "You seem upset."

"I'm fine," she denied, shrugging it off. Sydney's [e/c] hues found their way flickering from building to building, until they found their own building.

"Sydney, I know you better than that," [Name] assured. "Come on, tell me what's wrong." She pulled into the driveway, and opened the door, as did Sydney.

"Okay!" she huffed, slamming the door shut. "It's what we're learning in school! I don't get it!"

This caught [Name] by surprise. "What are you learning in school, sweetie?"

"Norse mythology," she mumbled, gripping her mother's hand as they walked up the large staircase leading to their apartment. [Name] pulled her keys out of her pocket, and opened the door, walking in. She immediately took off her shoes and had Sydney do the same thing, as well.

[Name] wondered why she was learning about Norse mythology at such an early age. For God's sake, she was only in second grade! Though, she held her tongue and decided to ask her a simpler question in which she would know. "What's so bad about it?"

"I just… don't like learning about it."

Deciding not to push this any further, [Name] sighed and took her coat and scarf off. She hung them up, and turned to her daughter again. "You know, you can always talk to your teacher after class and tell her that you're not comfortable learning about it."

"No, I'll deal with it," mumbled Sydney, walking off with low shoulders. [Name] walked into the kitchen, and pulled out a pot and noodles. "Is pasta okay for tonight?"

"Yes!" the small girl replied from another room, probably her bedroom, where she'd be reading books such as _Harry Potter._

[Name] was concerned. She was truly worried about her daughter. Other children her age were playing outside with their families, running through sprinklers, making up games to entertain them. But not Sydney. She'd stay inside and read, invent well-developed characters, and turn down every other child that wanted to befriend her. She had only one friend, a small, black girl named Carly. Perhaps giving birth to her at such a young age had affected her? [Name] only had Sydney when she was nineteen- the year after high school graduation. She had to drop out of college for it.

And [Name] definitely regretted it. She could've become a poet, like she's always wanted to be. She could've had a better husband instead of the scummy football captain that got her into this mess in the first place. Plus, he abandoned her once she told him of her pregnancy. He was with some other bimbo, now. And the worst, once he had left [Name], she swore that one day her name would be in bright lights. And it wasn't. She was a 26-year-old living in a shabby apartment with her antisocial daughter. She worked as a waitress.

[Name] snapped back into reality, and ran a hand through her hair. She poured water into a pot and put it onto the stove. She leaned over the counter as she cast her [e/c] hues downward, and put her hands over her eyes. She honestly had no idea how she'd be able to fix this mess she had gotten into.


End file.
